


All Charged Up With Nowhere To Go

by ClothesBeam



Series: Restoring Cybertron [2]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3899695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post Prime. Plug and Play</p><p>Smokescreen discovers why Knockout’s Energon prod has non-lethal settings, and the medic learns that talking about his feelings with a certain young bot is inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Charged Up With Nowhere To Go

**Author's Note:**

> This got a lot more dramatic than I thought it would. See part 1 if you’re after something more light-hearted.

Smokescreen sat in his office, checking over the creation records of their latest batch of sparklings. Primus seemed to have sensed their need and had created an inordinate amount of Constructicons, but thankfully the latest batch also had some bots more suited to data clerk roles. He smiled softly as he confirmed the data, and was finally able to offline his optics for a while.

However, his reprieve didn’t last long. He jolted upright when the door to his office slid open. Smokescreen rubbed the back of his head as he focused on Knockout. Was that... an Energon prod?

“What is it?” he asked. The memory of their last meeting immediately came to mind. He hadn’t even known his interface port was accessible while in car mode… But at least Knockout had given him a thorough polishing afterward as a reward for putting up with his weird kinks.

Still, he didn’t think he’d be changing his alt-mode any time soon.

Knockout twirled his favoured weapon contemplatively before answering. “I think you need some time off.”

“Well, you saw the last batch of sparklings. Looks like I’m going to be getting a helping hand soon, so I won’t have to play at librarian anymore.” Another notification came up on the holographic screen and he sighed.

Of course, he had to get a new housing unit organised for the young ones right away. If he was passing tasks like this to him, Bumblebee must still be negotiating on Earth. He started preparing a quick note to send to Bulkhead, when a certain red mech slid his aft across his desk. He sat firmly in the holographic field, disrupting the device beyond use.

Smokescreen leaned back and folded his arms. “I have work to do. Or do you _want_ the sparklings to be homeless?” It was a lot more difficult to write this way, but he synched himself to the computer so he could use his HUD to finish the message.

Knockout crossed his legs. “That’s the last message you send tonight. Tell Bumblebee to sort his own slag out.”

“That would require another message,” he retorted, sending the abbreviated note. Bulkhead knew the drill. All he really needed was numbers.

Another notification came through as he did so. This time it was Arcee telling him a ship of refugees would be landing sometime in the next few solar cycles. He had to liaise with the SynthEn producers and Bulkhead again, but not before making a record of their appearance on the radar…

He started when Knockout tapped the end of his Energon prod against his chin. “Ow! What the frag?” he complained at the sharp zap.

Knockout rested his pede against Smokescreen’s interfacing panel. “You _know_ what.” He clicked something on the handle of the device, and the charge humming on the end of it seemed to disappear.

He scraped it along his front, leaving the barest tingle of static. Every bit of charge went straight to his ports. “Watch it,” Smokescreen muttered, referring to his paint.

“I’ll fix it later,” Knockout murmured, resting the prod just above his interfacing array. “But only if you play with me first.”

He vented and folded his arms. It wasn’t that he was unwilling, he was just busy right now. He was currently responsible for keeping everyone fuelled up and everything running smoothly. “Can’t it wait a bit, just until Bee gets back? Then I’ll go back to my normal duties.”

Knockout removed his pede and the prod before answering. “That’s what you say, but you’re stressed out _now_. There’s still time to manage all of those things. It would be far more efficient to rest up and return to the pile later.”

“Interfacing isn’t exactly resting,” he argued weakly.

“Well, given your performance the last few times, it basically has been for you,” Knockout snarked.

Smokescreen jolted to his pedes and leaned over the red mech, who was still sitting on his table and in his computer. “What are you trying to say?” he demanded, fatigue making his fuse short. He paused when he noticed genuine primal fear flash across the other’s faceplate.

He glanced down only to find the medic’s pointed fingers ready to puncture his spark chamber should he move any closer. His spark fizzled wildly in his chest as he forced himself to calm down. Right, ex-Decepticon… that lot had no qualms with hurting each other.

“I’m not trying to start a fight,” he said calmly, slowly leaning back. The wild look left Knockout’s optics once he was out of his personal space.

He slid off the desk and tried to walk back toward the entrance.

“W-wait a minute,” Smokescreen said, grabbing the red mech’s upper arm. “I’m sorry I scared you. But even if I’m mad, I’d never actually-”

Knockout cut him off by scoffing loudly. “Scared, by someone as green as you? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Then explain your reaction just now,” Smokescreen retorted, making the medic face him by grabbing his other arm.

“Unhand me you oaf! I’ll leave you to your work if that’s what you really want!”

Smokescreen carefully raised a servo to touch the shorter bot’s faceplate. “I think this is a little more important right now.”

The older mech simply stared at him with a mix of confusion and disbelief. He clutched the prod in both of his servos as though it were a lifeline. “If you think ‘facing me is going to get you ammunition to use against me, you’re wrong!”

It was Smokescreen’s turn to give him a confused look. “Why the pit would I need ammunition against you? I just want to make you feel better.”

A mirthless laugh escaped him. “Things are different where I come from.” He slowly turned away and Smokescreen let him go. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember I’m not living with Megatron anymore.”

Now _here_ was the real issue. Smokescreen felt oddly relieved now that it was finally out in the open. “I’m not just ‘facing you because you’re good at it,” he reminded. “For some reason I actually like you.”

Knockout vented, but turned back and met his optic steadily this time. “Oh please,” he answered, back to his cocky tone. He used the prod to induce another gentle wave of static, reminding Smokescreen of the charge that was still lingering around his port.

Smokescreen avoided openly showing his relief, but he was glad to see the ex-con back to his usual self. Perhaps it would be prudent to let him have his way now. “Something, something playing with Energon prod?” he prompted as he temporarily removed the messaging system from his HUD.

“How could I not modify it to discharge voltages smaller than those needed to drop a mech?” he purred, turning up the strength.

“Ow!” Smokescreen complained, jumping back.

“You’re such a wuss,” he teased, turning the setting back down and moving it closer to his port.

Smokescreen felt his temperature jump at the thought of that much charge in a personal closed circuit. He activated his fans without much thought this time.

Knockout turned the staff casually and let a stronger charge race through the back of Smokescreen’s leg. The shock dropped him to his knees, and when he looked up in surprise all he got was an opticful of Knockout’s exposed interface array.

“Like what you see?” he asked with a smirk.

“Of you? Always,” Smokescreen replied, bringing a servo up to gently explore his equipment.

The red mech hissed as a little charge managed to jump across them. His fans finally booted up and his knees shook a little. Smokescreen was having trouble holding off an overload, but this reaction was well worth the effort.

“Want more charge?” the medic asked, vocaliser straining to sound normal.

Smokescreen smiled and nodded, determined to hold it all in his closed circuit. The prod worked its way into the seams of his torso, zapping his conductors directly. The air around him crackled and pleasure ran up and down his back strut, but he still held off on his overload.

Knockout let out a soft sound of disbelief. “All right, I’m impressed greenhorn.”

“You want in on this?” he asked softly, putting pressure on the mech’s thighs in an attempt to pull him down.

Knockout dropped to his aft and leaned back without much coercing, spreading his legs wide. He put the prod aside and placed his hands on his chassis instead.

Smokescreen got ready to open the circuit to his partner, shifting his protective plating aside and letting his plug extend. He lifted the medic’s hips to bring the mech’s ports to him.

He struggled to stay in control, but Smokescreen managed to send out the charge out in small, continuous waves. Knockout’s clawed hands dug into his outer plating and his legs tightened around his waist.

The medic didn’t do anything fancy or seemingly physically impossible this time, he simply sent everything back as one wave, and Smokescreen completely lost it. He too let the charge fly through their connection in one strong burst. Knockout squirmed in front of him, only seeming to be able to emit static.

The charge came back again just as suddenly and Smokescreen bent over him as an overload flooded his systems. He slid a servo under Knockout’s chassis and held him close as he sent the charge back once more. Knockout overloaded as well, letting the remaining charge disperse into the floor before it could do any real damage to the surrounding office equipment.

Smokescreen paused where he was as his systems returned to normal, and he began to notice the position they were in. He slowly pulled back, not sure whether to give Knockout space and put him on the floor, or to keep a hold of him to prevent his paint from being scratched further.

Knockout looked flustered when his optics onlined. “I haven’t been that worked up since…” he trailed off and became distant. Smokescreen didn’t really want to bring up Breakdown unless Knockout went there first.

“You’re beautiful,” he said without thinking, plug still humming inside the mech.

Knockout shook his head as he sat up a bit more. He glanced over his shoulder and tutted at the damage. “I _was_ ,” he muttered. He applied pressure to Smokescreen’s chassis, getting him to disconnect.

“I’ll fix your paint if you fix mine. I believe that was part of the agreement,” he teased softly. His front was beginning to sting.

“Ruining my paint was not,” he replied sharply, but didn’t truly look annoyed. He removed an electronic buffer from his subspace and added, “Get to work.”

Smokescreen vented. Of course Knockout was carrying that around with him everywhere. _Of course_.

“We’re going to need a spray gun for this, though,” he added, tapping the damage he had done to the blue paint.

Smokescreen snatched the buffer and had to resist trying to polish that smug look right off the doctor’s faceplate.


End file.
